


Rescued

by impalaloompa



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: A little bit of fluff, M/M, Minor violence and gore, wade is just awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more Peter studied the man, the more he became uneasy. It wasn’t until his Spidey-sense panged in the back of his skull that he knew something was definitely wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescued

Peter plucked at the collar of his shirt, the uncomfortable heat pressing against his skin as he stood with his Aunt May in line at the bank. May had some accounting issues she wanted to sort out and then she and Peter were going to go to the French Bakery on the corner for lunch.  
Peter had begged May to leave her banking until Monday. She had insisted getting it done. He was right of course. Saturday was a stupid day to try and do banking. The building was heaving, the heat of the many bodies thickening the air. Hence the sweat threatening to trickle off Peter’s brow.  
He shuffled forwards slightly with the rest of the line and contemplated the moustache inhabiting the lip of the security guard standing in the corner. It really was an impressive sight. Bushy and ginger and sweeping down his cheeks and resting either side of his chin. To be honest there was more moustache than man and –   
“Peter, it’s rude to stare,” Peter’s train of thought was interrupted by his Aunt’s sharp quip.   
“Sorry,” he murmured.  
She rambled on about how she had brought him up better than that and that he should know better but Peter’s attention wandered back to the guard. It was rather odd, the fact that this man had such extreme facial hair and all the other security guards were clean shaven. Peter had assumed that the dress code for the guards would be smart and groomed, but this man was the exception. Unless he wasn’t. The more Peter studied the man, the more he became uneasy. It wasn’t until his Spidey-sense panged in the back of his skull that he knew something was definitely wrong.  
“Aunt May, we should probably get out of here,” he grabbed her shoulders and tried steering her out of the line.  
“Goodness Peter. Stop it,” she exclaimed, “I know you don’t want to be here, but look, we are almost at the desk.”  
“Please Aunt May,” Peter begged, panic rising in his chest. He needed to get his Aunt out of there before whatever went down. It would be easy to slip away, double back, shed his civilian clothes and come to the rescue as Spider-Man.  
But May wouldn’t budge.  
Peter caught movement to his left, Spidey-sense pulsing, and he launched himself at his Aunt before a torrent of gunfire erupted all around them. They fell to the floor, Peter taking most of the brunt as screaming and panic echoed off the marble interior.   
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” a booming voice sounded over the mass hysteria, “This is a robbery.”  
Peter realised that it was moustache man. Moustache man strode from his corner brandishing two 42 magnums.  
Peter pushed up slightly trying to do a head count.  
There was moustache man, two other goons by the door, another had conquered the main desk, and a fifth stood by the self-service machines to his left. He assumed that there were probably more guarding the other exits. Too many for him to take on as Peter Parker. No chance to slip away and take them out as Spider-Man.   
His Aunt was trembling and Peter pressed himself closer to her, trying his best to reassure her.  
“Down on the ground. All of ya,” the man at the desk ordered. He was caressing a battered looking shot-gun, a menacing grin twitching his lips.   
The remaining people that were still on their feet practically threw themselves on the ground in their haste to please the robbers.   
Peter watched the two men by the entrance throw swag bags at the man by the self-service machine who caught them neatly, rifle resting against the machine he was leaning on.  
He grabbed the nearest bank worker, a middle aged woman who looked about ready to pass out, and marched her towards the desk, swinging his rifle at his side.  
“Fill these up will ya darling’?” the man at the desk smirked.  
Peter watched helplessly as the men tossed full bags back towards the entrance. There was nothing he could do that wouldn’t arouse suspicion or put his Aunt in danger. It wasn’t fear he felt when he watched moustache man point his hand guns at each individual civilian head as he moved through the terrified crowd, it was anger, and frustration.   
“Hey!” the goon with the shot gun yelled, leaping off the desk and shoving the barrel of his gun in the bank worker’s face, “What did ya just do?”  
“I’m sorry,” the woman wept, slinking to her knees.  
“Ah shit,” the guy with the rifle grumbled, “Bitch hit the panic button. Cops are on their way.”  
“Well, now you’ve made me angry,” moustache man growled above Peter’s head. Peter didn’t realise how close the man was and dread pitted his stomach.   
Before Peter could stop him, moustache man grabbed a handful of Aunt May’s hair and dragged her to her feet.   
May yelped with shock and Peter sprang to his feet, ready to tear that stupid moustache off that stupid face.  
“Careful boy,” moustache man grinned, dragging May backwards, gun pointed directly between Peter’s eyes. Peter scowled, taunting quip on the tip on his tongue when he felt something hard and cold press into the back of his head.   
“Back on the ground or the old lady gets it,” a voice snarled in his ear. Peter did as he was told and sank slowly to his knees, eyes never leaving his Aunt’s shaking form. There were tears spilling down her face and Peter struggled to contain the rage building in his gut.  
“If you hurt her-“  
“You’ll what?” moustache man jeered.  
Peter was pushed forwards so that his hands collided painfully with the marble floor. Shot gun man came into view.  
There was a moment, when all Peter could feel was the blood pumping through his veins, loud in his ears and strong in his chest. He was just about to throw himself at moustache man when a voice rang out over the hush, loud and obnoxious and very, very familiar.  
“Well now,” it sang, vocals bouncing off the marble, “I saw you guys were having a bit of a shindig in here and I thought I’d invite myself along. Though, I think you may have got the theme wrong. I was told this was a cops and robbers party, not a friggin wild west confab. Swag bags? Seriously? Not the fucking 1800’s… Though, with that moustache, you could’a fooled me.”   
“Deadpool,” moustache man seethed.  
“Howdy,” Deadpool strolled from behind a marble pillar, arms held nonchalantly behind his back.  
Peter practically whined with relief at the sight of his boyfriend. The figure of the red and black clad man, outfitted with guns and knives and swords, eased the pressure in Peter’s chest completely. Wade would handle this and his Aunt would be safe.  
“How the fuck did you get in here?” moustache man pulled a whimpering May tighter against his torso.  
“Uh…” Wade nodded towards where the two goons had been guarding the door. Both men were sprawled unconscious on the ground.  
“Fuck off you fucking degenerate,” the man with the shot gun aimed it at Wade.  
Deadpool narrowed his white-lensed eyes, ignoring the gun and focusing on May Parker. Peter didn’t miss the little glance Wade cast him, before rounding on the robbers.  
“First of all,” he addressed shot gun man,” Rude. Second of all,” he turned slightly with neat, military precise feet, to face moustache man, “You look ridiculous. And third of all… no that’s wrong. Thirdly,” he took a daring step forwards, making moustache man waver in his convictions, “Holding and old lady hostage? Not cool man. Also? Rude.”  
Quick as a flash Deadpool flicked a knife at moustache man, burying it deep in the man’s thigh.   
Moustache man yelped, releasing May as he fell to the ground, clutching at his leg. Peter quickly gathered his Aunt to him with a sweep of his arms and held her tight.  
The synchronised clicks of readying guns forced a sigh from Wade.  
“You idiots obviously don’t keep up with my Instagram. Bullets? Won’t hurt me,” he said smugly, hands resting on his hips.  
The guy with the rifle fired a shot which tore through Wade’s right shoulder.  
“SONOFABITCH,” Deadpool cried, desperately trying to stop the flow of blood, “rephrase, rephrase. Bullets won’t kill me but Jesus Christ! That smarts,” he pointed a blood slicked finger at the shooter, “You. You are gonna pay for that.”  
Peter watched Wade advance on the guy with the rifle. Another shot plugged into Wade’s chest. It was met with a grunt but he didn’t falter as he ducked the next shot and caught the man with a strong right hook. The robber crumpled to the ground, clutching a broken nose.   
“Nice,” Wade mused as he picked up the rifle and gave it a quick look over.  
Peter’s heart fluttered in his chest and Wade gave him a quick wink. Then Peter noticed the man with the shot gun marching on Wade, finger quivering over the trigger.  
Peter was about to cry out a warning when Deadpool dived to the left and sprang up again with a graceful pirouette. Caught off guard, the last robber standing fumbled with his shot gun, trying to aim it at Wade again to find that the space was empty. He jumped about a foot in the air when Wade tapped his back, firing a spray of pellets over his shoulder. Wade cursed as the gun fire narrowly missed his face.  
Peter recognised the expression now etching Wade’s masked face. Wade was done playing. He yanked the shot gun out of the robber’s hands and cracked him over the head with it. The man tumbled to the floor and Wade jammed the butt of the gun into his face. The man shuddered as consciousness flitted away.  
Wade straightened up, cracked his knuckles and then addressed the still conscious robbers.   
“That it? Really? Amateurs. How disappointing,” he strode to the entrance doors and flung them open.  
“That’s all folks,” he chirped, grin visible through his mask. When nobody moved Wade let out a dramatic sigh and gestured to the door.  
“You can all go now. The cops will be here in about five minutes. Be sure to tell ‘em who saved ya” he winked at Peter again.  
Civilians started cautiously rising to their feet and making their way out of the bank. Peter helped his Aunt to her feet and led her out into the day. As he passed Deadpool, he thanked him, just like most of the other civilians had, but Wade’s expression softened slightly and he gave Peter a slight nod. As Peter and his Aunt moved into the street, Deadpool called after them “Be sure to give the old gal plenty time to recover.”  
Wade’s concern for his Aunt warmed Peter’s heart, arm tightening around her shoulders.  
“I’m not old,” May grumbled.  
***  
Peter burst into their apartment and he was met with sparkling brown eyes and a big ass grin. Wade was peering at him from over the top of the couch, now wearing a faded grey t-shirt. The news was jabbering away on the TV. It was all Peter could do to not throw himself at the man he loved.   
“How’s Miss May?” Wade asked, brow furrowing, mouth tight.  
“She’s okay. Still in shock, but at home and resting. She insisted that I leave her and I wasn’t about to argue. You know how she can be sometimes,” Peter sighed as he approached the couch.  
Wade chuckled, “I sure do.”  
“Thank you Wade,” Peter sat beside him, nails digging into his palms, “Seriously. If you hadn’t shown up when you did… there was nothing I could do without revealing who I am and if she’d been hurt…”  
Wade took his hands and laced their fingers together.  
“Well I did, and she’s okay. That’s what matters,” Wade’s smile was infectious and Peter could feel his lips twitching.   
“How… what were you doing there anyway? I thought you had a job,” Peter studied the way Wade’s calloused fingers twined with his own.  
“Meh,” Wade shrugged, “It wasn’t worth my time. I was on my way back here when I happened upon the bank.”  
Peter didn’t miss his coy tone and he allowed himself the smile he had been trying to control. Wade had been taking less and less jobs lately and spending more time with Spider-Man out on the streets. Peter didn’t want to admit it but it sent giddy, happy feelings rolling through his chest.   
He shuffled closer to his boyfriend, admiring the way his scarred skin shifted in the light.  
“Oh, hey,” Wade practically shouted, pointing at the TV, “I made the news!”  
Peter grabbed the controller from the coffee table and turned up the volume.  
“-as an attempted robbery took place this morning. In a surprise turn of events, the masked mercenary known as Deadpool appeared on the scene and apparently saved the day according to witnesses,” the news reader said.  
“Apparently?” Wade scoffed, “How about fuck you.”  
Peter gave his hand a quick squeeze and Wade piped down to continue listening to the report.  
“And it seems that none of the civilians were injured and none of the robbers received fatal injuries. Is this just an off day for the mad merc? Or is he really turning over a new leaf? The mayor had this to say…”  
Peter groaned as Jameson appeared on screen.  
“I don’t know if Deadpool is ‘turning over a new leaf’. He’s a psychopath and a killer but he still did a better job at stopping that robbery than Spider-Man ever could,” the mayor spat the name with such venom that Peter was surprised that his saliva didn’t spatter the camera. Jameson continued on a crazy spiel and Wade took the controller from Peter so that he could turn the TV off.  
“Well fancy that,” Wade smirked, “You do a good thing and people are still narrow minded gits.”   
Peter grinned and let his head fall against Wade’s shoulder.   
“You did good today,” he prodded at Wade’s ribs.  
Peter felt Wade’s strong arm coil around his shoulders and he snuggled into Wade’s warmth.   
“Not bad for a day’s work,” Wade hummed in his chest, vibrating through Peter.  
“No,” Peter smiled into Wade’s t-shirt, “Not bad at all.”


End file.
